


His Mother's Son

by Lise



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Family, Flashback Flashforward, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon, The Beginning of the End, Weirdly Introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She found Loki curled up in a corner of her garden, his knees pulled to his chest and streaks on his face from tears when he looked up at her. “I’m never going to be like Thor, am I?” he said, and started to cry.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Mother's Son

**Author's Note:**

> So there was conversation on Tumblr about how Frigga and Loki's fighting styles are similar and ooooh maybe Frigga taught Loki his fighting style and I heard the siren song of "someone write a fic about this!" combined with "Frigga&Loki relationship!" and I was doomed. So I meant to write a kind of fluffy thing about family bonding. 
> 
> That's not what happened. I really should have known better.

She found Loki curled up in a corner of her garden, his knees pulled to his chest and streaks on his face from tears when he looked up at her. “I’m never going to be like Thor, am I?” he said, and started to cry.

“Oh, Loki,” she said, and knelt to gather him into her arms, where he no longer quite fit. He tried to push her away, but not very hard, and not for very long. “No, you won’t – but you shouldn’t be. You aren’t Thor.” 

Loki squeezed his eyes closed and tried to twist away from her. “I _know_ that, but that’s all anyone cares about, that’s all anyone _wants_ me to be-”

Alarm bloomed in her heart and she held him tighter. “That’s not true,” Frigga said with vehemence. “Nobody wants you to be your brother-”

“ _Don’t_ they?” There was a sudden venom in Loki’s voice that alarmed her. “It’s all they ever talk about, the armsmasters, _watch how Thor does it, it’s not that hard._ ” His mimicry was perfect, and made her want to laugh at how much he sounded like Gunnar, the ornery swordmaster, but held it in, knowing it wouldn’t be taken well just now. 

“And all I hear from your tutors is that they wish Thor was a little more like you,” Frigga said, gently, but Loki hunched his shoulders and shook his head, his voice bitter. 

“It doesn’t matter. If I’m not a proper warrior then I’m not a proper prince.” Loki’s voice was heavy and final. “And if I can’t even defend Thor…”

She wanted to say _there’s more to ruling than battle_ , wanted to say _you have your own gifts_ , wanted to just hold him and protect him from the world she’d feared would eat her younger son alive since the day Odin had brought him home. 

Instead, she unwound her arms and gave Loki a little nudge. “Come with me.”

Loki turned his face upwards to look at her, eyes widening. “—come where?” 

“With me,” Frigga said, standing and holding out her hand for his. “I want to show you something.” 

* * *

Frigga and Odin had discussed a thousand times how this conversation would go. She’d never thought to have it alone, a kind of terrifying blankness in her younger son’s eyes as he looked back at her like her words were going right through him and he didn’t hear a single one. _I love you_ , she tried to communicate with her face, her voice, her eyes, _nothing has changed, you are the son of my soul as you ever were-_

None of it was reaching him, and she was afraid of what might be turning behind that calm façade, what Loki’s almost too-clever brain was making of all of this. Where his thoughts were spinning. Loki had always been too good at thinking himself into a frenzy, his mind leaping ahead of everyone else until he stumbled on what was right before him by looking too far ahead. 

_Loki,_ she wanted to say, _talk to me. Please,_ but none of the words she found were the right ones, and he was as distant from her as Odin.

When he left the room, she looked down at her husband. “How could we let it happen like this?” she asked his still face. “We were supposed to do better.”

_I was supposed to do better._

* * *

“What are you showing me?” Loki asked, hovering in the doorway of the small training room she kept for herself, though rarely used now. Frigga offered him a smile. 

“The armsmasters are trying to teach you one way to fight,” she said. “The same way they are teaching Thor, and all the others. I want to show you something different.” Loki’s eyes narrowed. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s a way to fight that doesn’t need you to use a sword or an axe. That doesn’t rely on force to win.” She leveled her gaze on Loki. “You may not be as physically strong as Thor, Loki. But you are quick, and agile, and clever. With the methods I can teach you, you will be able to fight –and win – battles against those much larger and stronger than you.” Loki’s expression was skeptical, and he shifted. “No,” she went on, “it’s not what others learn. But I think this might suit you better.” 

“And you would teach me?” The way Loki looked at her was strangely…wary, she noticed, and she wondered when he’d learned that look. Last time she’d checked, she remembered only wide-eyed innocence, curiosity, eagerness about the world. 

“I would,” she said, solemnly. Loki’s expression flickered. 

“Just me.” 

“No one else has asked.” Loki took a slow step into the room, and Frigga let out a quiet, relieved sigh at the way the wariness faded and curiosity bloomed back to the forefront, lighting up his eyes. 

“Can we start now?” 

She smiled at him. “Of course, but we need to start small. Balance, first.” 

Loki frowned, narrowed his eyes. “I can balance.” 

She stepped forward and kissed his forehead, lightly. “Two keys, love,” she murmured. “Balance, and patience.”

* * *

Odin and Thor returned together while her senses were still quivering from the feeling of the Bifrost shattering, awful and cataclysmic. Odin was supporting Thor, she realized first, and rushed forward. “Odin-”

“He’s not hurt,” her husband said, his voice grave and heavy. “Only…”

Thor made a wretched sound, and it took her a moment to recognize it as a sob. And then – and _then_ , what ought to have been her first question and she would hate herself forever that it hadn’t been – “Where is Loki?” 

She knew, though, even as she asked. 

“I couldn’t – I couldn’t reach him in time-” Thor’s voice broke, and he wailed, pulled away from his father and stumbled to his knees, gasping like he couldn’t quite breathe, and the breaking of the Bifrost was nothing to the feeling in Frigga’s chest. She wheeled on Odin. 

“Frigga,” he said, sounding so tired, so _old._

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t save him,” she said, and heard her own voice crack. “Don’t tell me-”

“Frigga,” he said, again, and closed his eyes. “He let go,” and no. Not her youngest son. Not the bright-eyed, curious, clever child of her soul. Not Loki. 

Thor sobbed, raggedly, and Odin’s eyes were hollow, and the first words out of her mouth were “how could you let this happen?”

* * *

He took to it as she’d known he would, like a fish to water. He moved with graceful, natural fluidity. Shown a move, he could repeat it near perfectly within moments. Loki drank everything in, eagerly, almost greedily, taking everything she offered him and asking for more. He worked hard with good focus and when he failed picked himself up with renewed stubbornness to try again. 

“You’re spending all your time with that boy,” Odin said, though he sounded more amused than disapproving. Still, Frigga felt a slight prickle of defensiveness. 

“You spend a fair amount of yours with Thor.” 

He held up his hands hurriedly. “That was not an accusation, Frigga. Merely an observation. What are you teaching him?” 

Frigga smiled, a little. “I think you’ll see soon.”

He managed to take her to the mat shortly after, though he scrambled back at once. “—are you all right? Um – I didn’t mean-”

She had to laugh. “I should _hope_ you meant, Loki. Don’t start a fight you don’t mean to finish.” She pushed herself to a sitting position. “Well done. I’m just fine.” 

Assured of her safety, Loki’s face started to bloom into a giddy grin. “I’m good at this,” he said, and the almost startled joy in his voice made her heart ache. “I bet I could beat Thor like this. Hand to hand – I could actually _win._ ” 

Frigga felt her smile flicker. “I suppose. Do you really need to fight your brother, though?” 

He turned to look at her, eyes almost fervent, grin almost wild, and some small flame of foreboding burned up in her mind and went out, too quick to catch what might have been a whisper of her gift. “Just for fun,” he said, and added gleefully, “imagine the look on his face!”

“Loki,” she said, holding in the urge to sigh. “I don’t think…” but he was already dashing off, and she supposed it couldn’t really do any harm. Brothers fought, sometimes. And a small part of her couldn’t help but think that Loki deserved a win.

* * *

Every day she searched for him. Found a quiet place and cast her mind out into the dark, reaching, always reaching for something, anything. _Loki. Loki, come back to us. To me._

There was only ever silence, exhausting and endless, and she would return shaking and cold, wearied and hopeless. Odin watched her and she knew he thought she was reaching for what wouldn’t come, but he didn’t try to stop her. Understood that she had to do this, for herself. 

Penance, maybe. 

Thor was quieter, more thoughtful, less rash in his decisions. She thought sometimes that it wasn’t exile that had taught him that so much as the loss of his brother, as watching Loki let go and fall and experiencing true, complete helplessness and real loss, but she would never have chosen to pay that price to see Thor come into his own. 

The day she found him it was just a whisper, and she lunged after it with desperation, clung and clawed her way after the brush of familiarity, and saw Loki’s face. He was thin, carved knife sharp, but his expression for a moment was complete surprise that melted the hard metal cold of his features. 

He was alive, she told herself, when she slammed back into her body after he shoved her away. He was alive. That was enough.

The rest, she could recover.

* * *

She wasn’t there to see Loki challenge Thor. Frigga didn’t even know it had happened until it had, and everyone was buzzing with what was by all accounts a humiliating defeat. Frigga sighed and went to go check on Thor, first. She found him, predictably, sulking. 

Cheering up Thor was never a difficult task, though, and it was only his pride that was wounded. With a little bit of coaxing, Frigga assured him that no one was going to think less of him for losing one match, and that he could use his defeat, moreover, to become better, and Thor perked up at once. 

“That’s true,” he said, brightening out of his sulk – Thor had never been very good at holding them. “And besides, it’s not _really_ like Loki won, anyway. Not _actually_.”

Frigga fell still. “Why not?” 

Thor shrugged. “I mean – it wasn’t real fighting. He hardly _did_ anything. It was all just…” Thor waved a hand, vaguely. “Tricks. That’s not – it’s fighting like a _girl._ ” Frigga just looked at him, and Thor gradually turned a little pink. “I mean – not that it’s bad to be a girl. It’s just not really – other than Sif, I mean, and she’s _special_ – I just meant that-”

“Thor,” Frigga said, and sighed. “I hope you didn’t say any of this to your brother.” 

Thor looked down, and Frigga dearly wished that her impulsive eldest would just _once_ stop and think. “He was gloating,” Thor said, sullenly. “I didn’t mean…”

Frigga had an awful sinking feeling in her chest, and shook her head, slowly. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said, and stood up to go find Loki. 

He wasn’t in his room, or in the room where they met, or in the garden. She found him, finally, out on the Bifrost, sitting on the side with his legs swinging in empty nothingness, and her heart leaped into her throat. He turned to look at her, but he wasn’t crying, and she couldn’t tell if he had been. 

His mouth twisted a little toward something not quite a smile. “I guess you heard? I won.” He didn’t sound very happy about it. Frigga held in a sigh as he stood up and turned toward her. “Not really, though. Thor would have it that I cheated.”

“You hurt his pride,” Frigga said, softly. “He was only trying to hurt you back.” 

“By morning everyone in Asgard will agree with Thor.” That smile-that-wasn’t became a little more pronounced. “He said it in front of everyone, after all, and loudly. I hurt his pride for an hour. How long will they be calling me a cheat? Because I don’t fight like they do. Because my way isn’t their way and their way is the only right-”

“Loki,” Frigga said, startled at the growing anger in his voice. “—stay calm. It’s not…people will forget. No one thinks that words spoken in anger must be truth.” 

Loki looked at her, eyes suddenly bright and perfectly clear. “You think I was wrong, don’t you? That I shouldn’t have challenged him. Shouldn’t have beaten him, maybe.”

“I didn’t say that,” Frigga said, carefully. 

“You don’t have to, mother,” Loki said, and he did smile, very slightly. “I can see it on your face.” His hands flexed at his sides, and then relaxed, and he drew himself up. When had he gotten so tall? He’d always been her _little_ boy, but even if he was still all limb (and a thin layer of wiry muscle), he was almost as tall as Thor, now. 

“I don’t think you were _wrong,_ ” Frigga said, after a moment. “I just wish…that you and Thor didn’t compete the way you do.” Loki was quiet, and she took a breath. “Do you want to practice, love? If you like-”

“No,” said Loki quietly. He stepped forward off the Bifrost, and she felt a rush of startling relief when he was on solid earth. “No, I don’t think so. Not today.” He leaned forward and pecked her cheek in a dry kiss. “Thank you, mother. Truly.” 

She turned to look after him as he walked away, each step silent, like he was hardly touching the ground.


End file.
